Star Wars: Lost Stars - Redemption
by Mathew Kong
Summary: Following the events of Star Wars: Lost Stars, Ciena Ree and Thane Kyrell face a new set of challenges that will test their courage as well as their hearts in an ever-changing galaxy.


**PROLOGUE**

 _Look through my eyes._

A ribbon of pure white streaked the shale gray sky, fragile as a cord of lace and already disappearing amongst the clouds. An urgent _whoosh_ followed shortly after, the sound echoing through the valley. In that moment, all she could feel was pure exhilaration, even as the moment passed and the roar of the ship's engines no longer filled her ears. She breathed in the cold, crisp air and caught the slightly sweet scent of hay and the musty, familiar scent of muunyak fur. She felt her fingers sliding through the wool of the animal she was astride; noted its impossible softness and ability to warm her hands immediately despite the bleakness all around. But for the longest time, she kept looking up at the sky; up at the spot of gray and all she could think was: I want to be up there someday.

When she finally lowered her gaze, she saw a man's face before her, and when he smiled at her she felt her heart at ease, despite the sadness that was there, impossible to miss. She felt his strong, gentle hand rest assuredly on her head, and then the tender way he tucked one of her curls behind her ear. What was he so sad about?

The thought hung in her mind even as the world suddenly faded from her vision, leaving only a featureless black void before her eyes. She felt instantly numb, as if all sensation had been stripped away from her at once, and the silence that met her ears was deafening. Where was she? What was happening? Several moments passed as she tried to peer through the gloom to no avail. Then…

 _Look through my eyes._

Slowly the depth of the blackness gave way to a murky gray blur, and then all too suddenly to the blazing brightness of the afternoon sun. For a moment, she felt something akin to a dull, throbbing sting, but the sight before her soon caused her to dismiss the pain altogether. A waterfall, glistening with a thousand crystal prisms, arced forth a dazzling rainbow, amplified and splayed out in a million directions by the surrounding ice cove.

"Whoa," a boy's voice gasped over the comm. He sounded young; no more than twelve or thirteen. What was his name again? She mulled it over in her mind, just on the tip of her tongue. But then she remembered the rainbow, and realized they were passing it. She wanted to get a better angle, maybe snap a holo for a keepsake. But even before she finished the thought, she felt the craft shift, felt the gentle tilt and then the rush of positive G's as they banked and began a tight starboard turn. For some reason, it felt like she had done this before, and yet she couldn't recall a specific time or even still, the name of that boy. All she knew was that she had the irrepressible urge to laugh. As if in response, she heard the boy whoop excitedly, and in that moment she felt a warmth she had never experienced before.

And then it was over. In the next instant, the blackness returned, leaving the boy's elated voice to fade from her ears. The silence that replaced it deepened as what seemed like hours crawled by. In the dark she felt frighteningly cold, alone. Every now and then panic would overtake her, and she imagined herself running with her arms outstretched, desperately trying to find something solid; something tangible to orient herself. But she couldn't feel anything but the cold; she couldn't feel the ground or even her own limbs. Still, she willed her imaginary legs to race even though she doubted she was going anywhere, and her mind raced along with her. But eventually she stopped, despair gripping her heart like a cold iron vice, and gave up _._

Gradually, despair turned into numbness, and a strange sense of calm flooded over her, as if even her own mind was giving in to the acceptance of her prison. More hours passed by… days, weeks, years. She couldn't keep track and no longer cared to. She still had that memory of the waterfall and that boy who felt so familiar and close. She clung to it and played back every detail as if failure to do so would rend it from her mind forever. When the thought inevitably surfaced that she might have made him up, even that didn't seem to matter. For some reason, even without the validity of proof, she somehow knew that he was undoubtedly, assuredly real.

 _Look through my eyes._

Suddenly, she could feel again. Everything… her arms, her legs, the cool of a crisp night's air. All at once. A frigid breeze blew past and she welcomed it in all its biting discomfort. She could have stood there and let the wind rub her raw, but instead found herself wrapping an impossibly soft fur blanket tighter around herself. Darkness surrounded her but streams of light dared themselves into the back of what appeared to be a cave, and she followed. Leaning a shoulder against a cold, smooth surface, she could feel a sense of familiarity once again seeping into her subconscious, but couldn't place why.

As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she could just make out a faint green light blinking steadily on and off and the accompanying low hum of a space heater. Her gaze then trailed to a generous pile of furs and blankets… and a man lying face-down atop them, the arcs of his calf muscles drawing her gaze up past a sliver of sheet covering the small of his back, only for his broad back muscles to emerge like a series of foothills to summit at his angular shoulder blades. He shifted, and then rolled onto his back, smiling, and their eyes met.

"You're showing your sister this?" he said groggily.

 _I know this man,_ was the only thought her mind could conjure in response. She froze, wishing that she had something she could say. What she would give to continue this moment, to extend this meeting the way she wanted before she surely would be forced back into her prison for who knew how long. Surprisingly, the right words seemed to spill out of her without any effort. "I'm supposed to show her the most beautiful and extraordinary moments of my life. This qualifies."

 _Wait…_

Something burned in her. It felt pained and urgent, like someone was taking something that was rightfully hers. And those words… she knew those words. She had said them before, to the man she loved. What was his name?

She walked over to him, took his outstretched hand, and lay beside him. She had wanted to do so from the moment she saw him: to curl up against him, to feel the warmth of his smooth skin upon hers, but the entire time it felt strangely like someone else was in control. She tried a test: an attempt to prop herself up on her elbow, something different than what she somehow knew she would do. She couldn't. Panic began to squeeze itself in along the sides of her head, at the very same time that she simply wanted to stop fighting and simply melt into his embrace.

 _You probably know this,_ she thought, _but I still love you._

It was all she could do, and maybe that was enough. Soon, she would fade once again into the blackness to be left with yet another memory of this nameless man she felt so connected to, so apart of. She wanted to close her eyes and cry, whether tears of anguish or joy, or both.

"You probably know this, but I still love you."

As if jolted by electricity, she felt the burning return the moment she heard those words repeated aloud, and this time she had the word for it.

 _Jealous._

Jealous of who? There was no one else-

Then it became clear.

 _No_.

Her sister was the one who had died at birth. Not her. This didn't make any sense.

"And I love you. Everything else might change, but not that."

 _Everything_ has _changed!_ She thought to herself. She wanted her sister to stop smiling her smile, to stop gazing at him with her gaze. But still her mouth moved with words that were not her own, her heart beating with a tenderness for him that only broke hers. And as their conversation continued, all she could find herself thinking was: _why?_

"Enough with the oaths, Wynnet!"

That name. She remembered now. Wynnet, her sister. Thane, her beloved.

Ciena. My name is Ciena Ree.

She wanted to cringe when Thane shouted at her. Even though the conversation with Thane was not hers, she still felt a sinking feeling to hear it through Wynnet. He had drifted so far away from her, and she from him. She thought she could change the Empire from within. Could she have? She had been in service for nearly seven years, but despite a fast-track advancement, she found herself heeding orders to send pilots needlessly to their deaths, routing out groups with even the slightest whiff of rebel sympathy, and worst of all, approving a guilty sentence against her own mother. She thought her performance and dedication would lead to more influence; more opportunities to make decisions that would change the Empire for the better. Instead, they simply gave her bigger warships from which to carry out even more brutal attacks.

Thane had been right all along, yet her stubbornness had kept them apart to the very end. And when she finally wanted out, it was too late for them. Now, locked in this prison, she would relive the moment when she could have made right choice, but didn't.

Why was this happening, and how? Thane's voice continued to hum against her cheek as she lay against his chest, his words became a baritone blur in her mind as she tried to piece together the possibilities. The last thing she remembered was aiming the Inflictor toward the surface of Jakku, activating the captain's word protocol and sealing the bridge. Perhaps she was successful; completing her service to the Empire and setting herself free at last. Maybe her soul had gone on to live another life; perhaps in this one, she was the one who had died at birth and her sister had gone on to live. Or what if it had always been this way, her memories just products of her tortured imagination as she waited for the next time Wynnet would say the words?

 _This is no more than you deserve._

She would have done the same thing to Wynnet. Perhaps she had. Unknowingly, of course, but it didn't matter. And in that life, if it even existed, she had let her best friend die. She had guided comrades to their doom. She had betrayed her mother. All so she could be part of the Empire. All so she could keep her honor. All so she could fly.

 _Fly with me._

She wanted to shake her head no.

 _Full thrusters. Let's grab some sky._

She wanted to tell Thane to stop; they didn't know what it would cost them in the end. They were young, innocent, care free. They could have stayed on Jelucan together and spent their whole life flying that old V-171, or perhaps gotten jobs together as couriers or freighter escorts. He could have returned to her every night, wrapped her up in a long kiss, made love with her until morning…

 _Listen._

No! There was no point anymore. She made her mistakes, and this was her punishment. All she could do was let it play out until it was over-

"Listen, I know you're not ready to come with me today. And maybe you won't consider joining the Rebellion. But if I thought you might leave the Empire someday – even if it's just to come back here, or start your life over on another world-"

This was it. She had hoped she could block it out, to make it to the end without having to relive the last time she refused him. She didn't want to hear it. She didn't want to hear her declaration of duty, to feel the confident heat rise from her chest as she spoke up about changing the Empire from within-

"I swore an oath to the Empire… but… I'm tired, Thane. I thought I was making a difference, that I could change things from within. But now my own mother is in chains, and I can't do anything to help her. They know she's innocent, but they expect me to go along with it. Even support it. I don't have a choice…"

Ciena could feel a lump rising in her throat, tears welling in her eyes, the desire to bury her face in Thane's chest stronger than ever.

"…I… I want out, Thane."

Thane put his arms around her and held her for a long time. Ciena, in spite of herself, savored the moment, even as her mind tried to work out what was happening. This wasn't the way it had gone. She had denied Thane. Her decision to stay had been more than just an oath; she saw the darkness in the Empire and thought it even more important to reverse it. A perfect snare; a feedback loop where the viler the Empire revealed itself to be, the more she had resolved to stay with it. She could never break free.

But Wynnet did.

Thunder echoed from outside the mouth of the cave and shadows danced in long profiles across their bodies, cast boldly from the old lamps swinging to and fro. All about was peaceful and serene, the sounds of the dying storm naturally filling in the silence as the world moved on. Finally, after years of enduring the uncertainty and dread of fighting on opposite sides of the war, it was over. For them.

The burning rose once again within Ciena's chest as she lay safe within Thane's arms, alternating between bliss and rage. But before long, the fire began to fade just as the clouds started to lift outside, a short moment of golden sunset revealed before the night settled in. In that perfect moment of peace, lying together in the dying glow, her strength finally gave way, and she let go. She couldn't be angry with Wynnet for finding the strength she never had; to put aside her high ideals for the man she loved her entire life. Years lost would be regained. Feelings ungiven would be shared. Passions long-sought would be fulfilled. The galaxy may very well rip itself apart, but they would face it together, as they were always meant to. She couldn't be angry. Wynnet would take better care of Thane than she ever could. And perhaps, now and then, she would still get to see him. That was more than she had when she was plummeting toward the surface of Jakku. That was more than she could hope for.

She sank into a comfortable nook between a rise of blankets and the crook of Thane's arm, and quietly drank in the moment. She wondered what feelings Wynnet must have felt just then. Happiness? Relief? Fear? The two of them would be on the run. He'd get her a fake identification and they'd leave Jelucan and the Empire behind. Perhaps they would meet up with the crew Thane had mentioned before; they seemed like a nice bunch. They would travel the galaxy and get to help people in little ways. There would be many more extraordinary moments for Wynnet to show her… maybe one every day.

Her gaze settled on the hand she had placed upon him, so small and delicate upon his broad canvas of a chest. She remained deep in thought for a long moment, letting her mind wander to the possibilities of the worlds they might visit, allowing her mind to detach from the small talk that Wynnet and Thane had assumed. Through the haze of her daydream, she noticed Wynnet's hand slide down Thane's body, and caught a glimpse of the bracelet upon her wrist. And suddenly, she was fearful again.

 _What if she loses it…?_

Ciena had lost hers in battle. She remembered waking to the horrifying realization that her connection to Wynnet was gone forever. And if she could lose hers, so could Wynnet. Even if Thane and Wynnet managed to avoid the war altogether, there were still countless opportunities for the bracelet to be lost. It didn't matter the probability. The _possibility_ of being kept in the darkness forever sapped the strength of what was holding Ciena together.

 _I want out of here._

The thought pounded through her mind like a series of violent shoves, but what could she do? It didn't matter. She needed to find a way out. Some way, any way. Even if it meant somehow taking control from Wynnet, she had to. She couldn't go back to that prison again. She wanted to scream. She did scream. Over and over again, as Wynnet smiled and cooed and Thane brushed a hand against her thigh. She pounded invisible fists against the glass walls of Wynnet's irises as Thane gazed at her mischievously, the corner of his lip lifting into his handsome lopsided grin. She tightened every fiber of her insignificant being into a ball of desperation and fury, willing herself to shatter through Wynnet's mind. This could be the last time she ever saw Thane; the last time she ever saw anything. She screamed and screamed, but no one heard her.

And then she woke up.

She shot up from the cot, gasping for breath. Her lungs felt as if they were on fire, her throat stung as if razor blades had been poured down it. Her eyes darted to and fro, trying to grab every familiar sight they could simultaneously, failing. It was cold, quiet, dark. It was the prison. She was back in the prison. No.

A different prison.

As her senses started sifting through her environment, offering her bearings, she became aware of a low, droning hum. In front of her, a few meters beyond the foot of her cot, she could see the faint, mirage-like distortion of the containment field. Just beyond, slightly desaturated by the field, sterile-looking stone walls faded away from her cell into featureless shadows. She looked down at herself; at her light brown prison dress, almost the color of her skin. She brought her hands to her lap and turned them palm-up. She flexed her fingers several times.

She was in control.

Then she looked to her bare wrist and remembered. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, but her hands balled into tight fists. Her true prison wasn't a cell or a dream. Every cuff, every chain, she had put there. And it all began with one. Long ago, when a little girl looked up at the sky.

Softly, she began to weep, the smallest sounds of her crying amplified by the close walls and brooding silence. She had never felt so without substance, so empty. Her entire life had been defined by her dream to fly, realized by joining the Empire, only to be twisted into something foul and ripped from her. She had lost everything she ever cared for.

Even Thane.

The other day, when Thane had called for her, she had refused him. She wasn't ready to see him. Now, alone in the night, all she wanted was for him to be there. To stay with her, to hold her until the morning. What she would give to not be alone with her thoughts for the rest of the night. But she had turned him away yet again, the man she had yearned to be near for so many years of her life. In her pride and stubbornness, even after coming so close to death, she had still pushed Thane Kyrell away.

 _Never again._

Tomorrow, she would be ready to see him. It would only be for a moment; that's all they would allow. But perhaps, after seeing him again, he would chase the nightmares away. He had a way of affecting her with even the briefest encounters. They would be forced apart again, but they would hold on. It was something they had gotten used to.

She closed her eyes and imagined him standing in front of her. The walls, the force field, all gone. The crisp evening air surrounded them, and the soft cacophony of Coruscant traffic droned in the distance. Thane was holding his arm out to her and smiling wearily after a long night of dancing. She took it and he brought her gently to her feet. She cradled his arm so tightly that he looked down at her questioningly. He didn't understand. Not yet. But one day he would.

"I'm so glad to have you back," she whispered.

"Me too."


End file.
